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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26410756">Jealousy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atqueinstupracaballum/pseuds/Atqueinstupracaballum'>Atqueinstupracaballum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Undead Husbands [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dracula &amp; Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Relationships, Broken Bones, Canon-Typical Violence, Degradation, Draculas a jackass what did you expect, Dresses, Fights, Forced Crossdressing, Jealousy, Kidnapping (Mentioned), M/M, Master/Slave, Period-Typical Sexism, Punishment, don't take this to seriously, i guess, needs more editing but author is lazy and sick of looking at it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:15:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26410756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atqueinstupracaballum/pseuds/Atqueinstupracaballum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan doesn't like the madman his Master has enlisted to aid them. </p><p>Dracula doesn't like getting bitched at.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dracula/Jonathan Harker, Dracula/R.M. Renfield (mentioned)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Undead Husbands [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919641</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jealousy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I need y'all to know that this 'Undead Husbands/Jonathan's a vampire because reasons' AU of mine's got no solid plot and I write bits for it based purely on a 'fuck it why not' mentality. </p><p>That being said, enjoy Jonathan suffering in a dress.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are you questioning my authority, Jonathan?" Dracula's voice was a wolfish growl. The two furious creatures of the night were toe to toe with one another, noses nearly skimming despite the height difference. The older vampire's face was set in cold fury, his jackal had the audacity to return the look with his own impassioned glare.</p><p>"What does he have that I do not?" the fledgling seethed, pained, offended, oh so <em>jealous</em>. It choked the air that neither man had to breathe, a noose around Jonathan's neck. </p><p>"Respect, apparently," Boomed Dracula, shoving his slave into the wall. "I do as I please, with whom I please and when I please. It is not your job to concern yourself with such matters." </p><p>"<em>Oh</em>" there was a hysteric note to his laugh as he grasped viciously at his Master's lapels, furious, eyes burning red. "I'm sure you do. I'm sure you so passionately drink from him, take him in your arms and sup, and then defile him until he is senseless. Consume him blood and body. Fuck him until he's unconscious, then one more time for good luck! I'm sure he aches when you leave, filthy-" Dracula shut the hysteric sobbing words up with a sharp bite from the back of his hand. His slave gasped, tumbling onto his knees.</p><p>"You vulgar brat! What madness is this?" his boot slammed into Jonathans back, pinning him down. </p><p>"You aren't attempting- attempting to disprove it- you're not disagreeing..." he sobbed again, even if no tears would come, trembling below the heel of his master. "Why? Why do you need him? Get rid of him- please- I beg- I beg to my God- my Saviour- my <em>HUSBAND</em>." Dracula paused to the last howled word. It was clicking together what precisely had brought this fit of madness onto Jonathan. "You are <em>my</em> husband! <em>Mine</em>! Not his, so why do you continue favoring him, visiting that vile scum, that madman! What have I-" Very slowly he lifted his heel from the small of the young vampires back. "<em>WHAT HAVE I DONE!</em>"</p><p>"Get up." Shakily Jonathan obeyed, rising to kneel, looking up with large blue eyes, a lock of hair falling down to obscure parts of them. His lips trembled, fangs tucked over his trembling bottom lip. Dracula continued. "I am not <em>your</em> husband." Jonathan let out an ugly wheezing sound. He diverted his gaze downwards like a petulant child, shaking his head. "You seem to be under the impression that <em>you</em> own <em>me</em>. The direct opposite is so. As for Renfield...I do what I must and what I wish. But I should not have to tell you that, a master should never be in the place of defending himself to his slave." Another whimper. For Dracula that was not good enough, not at all.</p><p>With lethal swiftness he swung his boot upwards, slamming it into Jonathan's jaw, snapping his head back horridly. The young vampire cried out for mercy, falling on his shoulder, bleeding from his nose and mouth as another kick was given to his ribs. Something cracked underfoot, and his screams got louder. "My business is my own. My will is your law" he slammed his heel into his prey's elbow, leaning down, crushing bone. Jonathan howled, back arching. "You are not to order me around. Not to defy my rule. Not to cry like a child." the foot pressed next into Jonathan's throat. "What are you, a nagging, paranoid housewife?" The count remembered how his brides, the ones he had left behind, nagged and bitched at him. He smiled cruelly, tapping his foot threateningly over the fledglings Adam's apple. "I should put you in a dress if you plan on acting like this."</p><p>Jonathan made panicked noises, attempting to shake his head. Beg. it was absurd, begging for mercy from a merciless warlord. but Jonathan had always been like that, the Englishman in him, Dracula supposed. Dracula chuckled at the squirming, though it had no amusement in it. Like blowing out a candle, he snuffed the consciousness from his husband, snatching it away with the crushing of his esophagus.</p><p>It would heal. It always healed. Vampires, much like cockroaches, were hard to kill. Dracula kept him well-fed, young, in good shape, as any bride of his ought to be. By the time Jonathan awoke he would be physically healed, at least for the most part. Mentally, however, the pain would stick fast and hard, he would remember that part, he would remember how it felt as his bones snapped and throat caved, and that was the point.</p><p>He picked his bride up like he weighed nothing, at first aiming his steps towards Jonathan's little closet cell. Anytime he acted out, warranted punishment, he woke in that cell. If the beating had not taught him his lesson, that cold lonely enclosed space always did.</p><p>This, however, was different than other times. Jonathan had never been this stupid, acted out this harshly and brazenly.</p><p>The old vampire stilled, face clouded with concentration. His deep brown, nearly red eyes traveled to his unconscious husband, a gentle, malicious smile coaxing across his lips.</p><p>~</p><p>The look of confusion on Jonathan's pale face as he awoke on his bed was rather becoming, almost cute, Dracula had to admit. Groans rasped out from him, his lips mouthing nonsense before he forced his eyes open.</p><p>"...Master..." he was subdued, nervous, waiting to gauge his mood. Dracula smiled. It was not a pleasant one and he heard his jackal swallow thickly. </p><p>"Hello, Jonathan."</p><p>"I'm...sorry..." it was a lie and they both knew it. Dracula rose.</p><p>"I do not like falsehood under my roof dear." Jonathan instinctually pressed further into his pillows as his Master leaned over him. "You know that." </p><p>"I...I am sorry! It was foolish of me to...to be so...It was insubordination. I understand that now. It was a moment of madness." he shut his rambling up when Dracula cupped his cheek with one deathly cold hand.</p><p>"Indeed. But let us get you dressed and groomed, my stupid little housewife, then you may begin repaying your <em>many</em> debts to me."</p><p>Jonathan very thinly veiled his trepidation with a servile smile and bow of the head.</p><p>That silly show of false regret lasted as long as it took for him to see what his punishment was.</p><p> </p><p>"Master...this is...absurd," he cried, taking a small step back. </p><p>"Hardly," replied the count, eyeing the garments he had hung up on the dresser contentedly. </p><p>"But- But Master my flesh is that of a man! These are maidens clothes. This is...What have I done that deserved <em>this</em>."</p><p>"You behave as a bitchy wife and so you shall wear the garb of one." He allowed his tone to clip slightly against 'bitchy housewife', driving the point forward. He was not entirely aware, beforehand, that children of the night could blanch, but Jonathan pulled the feat off. </p><p>"F-for- for how long," his composure was unraveling as he beheld the garments his master had prepared for him.</p><p>"Until I decide otherwise, naturally."</p><p>Jonathan spluttered once, twice, then turned to Dracula, grasping his hands with a servants fever, emploring with frantic words: "I am sorry for my outburst, I am sorry for having less than a slaves trust in my Sovereign. I am sorry for my jealous, fickle lover's heart. I am but dust beneath your feet, crush me, do as you please, but I beg...not this..."</p><p>Dracula chuckled lowly at the fledglings desperation, taking his face in his hands.</p><p>"Oh Johnny, it is far, <em>far</em> too late for that." He let the disgruntled fellow go, turning him by the shoulders and leading him to the gown and undergarments laid out. All the while he hissed: "Come now, let us get you ready."</p><p>Jonathan stripped-down, unhappily trading his undergarments for drawers, stockings, garter, and chemise. Heeled boots were laced up securely, after which came the corset.</p><p>Dracula assisted most here, adjusting the fit of it to his liking.</p><p>"M-master-" Jonathan whined, unused to his insides squishing in this particular manner as the laces were pulled tighter, "only vain, attention-seeking wenches tie their corsets so crushingly. It is not supposed to hurt I don't think. Mina never..."</p><p>"Vain, attention-seeking wenches hm?" He yanked the laces tighter, satisfied at last. "That does sound correct, yes." Jonathan moaned pitifully, shame turning his face bright red. He was then forced into a corset cover, then a petticoat, and last the dress itself. It was a simple but effective dress, made from rich, sturdy fabrics. </p><p>Its bust showed off his pale collar and chest, cut in a squared shape. The sleeves were puffed up in that popular fashion of the day, clinging tightly to his elbow and forearm, leaving his wrists exposed. The dark crimson, almost purple, velvet clung to his forcefully enhanced curves snuggly like a jacket, kept together by a  strip of black cloth that tied into a bow at the back, and under which there was a frilled white front panel, the smallness of his waist was balanced by the skirt, which hugged his hips before fanning out, trailing behind him in a pleasant, plated train. At his throat, covering some of the numerous bitemarks littered there, Dracula tied a slip of matching velvet, tieing it into a little bow.</p><p>Jonathan looked like he wished to cease existing. His face was aflame, lips pouting, blue eyes firmly stuck to the floor as he stiffly stood before his master, who was admiring his handiwork proudly.</p><p>"You look marvelous my dear <em>wife</em>." Dracula never fancied being sugary with his slaves, least of all when they were being bad, but the look of agony that crossed over Jonathan's face reinforced the necessity of it now.</p><p>~</p><p>The count had not expected to enjoy this as much as he was currently. Jonathan was positively charming when he was like this. Ashamed, flustered, offended, in a word, a absolute <em>mess</em>. He alternated between being very, very pale, to turning an unhealthy red whenever his Master brought attention to his predicament. He was silent unless Dracula drew answers out of him, stubbornly refusing to give him any of their usual small talk. It was defiance, but seeing that he had other things to focus on that night, it was one that he allowed to stand. Furthermore, silent suffering was often the most effective kind.</p><p>He took pains not to move too much, despite the busy body he was naturally inclined to be. It was as though he thought he could wish away his punishment, forget it, if he stayed completely still. Dracula would have none of that. So, he asked for little things: for this book, or that pen, or some distant bill he had to look over, forcing Jonathan to dart about and further drive in that embarrassment like a splinter under a nail. Jonathan grew sick of it very, very quickly. </p><p>"Is there anything else you need, master?" there was notable malice in the statement. Instead of punishing it outright, Dracula calmly took that bill he had asked from, eyes already scanning over the contents. </p><p>"Oh, yes," without looking he tapped a nail to the wine glass which sat on his desk, "fill that with fresh blood, wouldn't you, love?" </p><p>The horror was palpable as Jonathan comprehend everything that entailed. Dracula saw what he was thinking, saw that he loathed having anyone, even the meaningless family they had chained up in their basement, see him in his current state. Nonetheless, he knew better than to argue. With a less than steady hand he took the cup and promised his hasty return. Dracula spared him a glance as he left, admiring his figure and the delicate trail of red fabric again the floor. Really, it was not hard on the eyes at all.</p><p>Jonathan's return was indeed quick. The wine glass had been filled generously and was handed over with an even less stable hand. Dracula said nothing as he took it, merely sipped at it, still pretending to be consumed with his paperwork. He had other means than his physical eyes to catch a glance at his subordinate. Jonathan looked faintish, as though he would have cried if the option were still available. His shoulders were tense, fingers flexing and knitting tightly together, restless, at times even digging into his skirt. </p><p>Satisfied, Dracula informed him that that was free to be at ease. </p><p> </p><p>The first time that Jonathan spoke unprovoked to Dracula that night was to announce in a roundabout, servile that he was hungry. It was unspoken but acknowledged by both that he expected to be back in his normal clothes by dinner.</p><p>"Well, I have business at Carfax to attend to."</p><p>"Carfax?" he frowned harder, blue eyes sparkling with disbelief.</p><p>"Yes, is that an issue Miss Harker?"</p><p>It was, he could see it in Jonathans eyes, deep down his opinion of that asylum and Mr. Renfield remained still unchanged. However, he sucked in a useless, habitual, though constricted breath, mouth tight in a line. He was weighing his words. A wise move, given what was at stake.</p><p>"No Master..." he looked away from his superior, then back up, meeting his eyes. "I hope your business concludes favorably."</p><p>"As do I," and with that he was rose from his chair and was gone. </p><p>Truth be told, there was no business at Carfax, he'd collected enough blood in his last trip to last them a week. He was using the asylum as a sort of grocery store, seeing that they could not afford to go on proper hunts every night and the taste of the family under the floorboards got old after awhile. Renfield was a mere pawn in all of this, as well as a wine press, an easy target. Dracula had promised him all the animals in the world for entrance into the asylum, and it only took a few more mental and physical caresses for the man to submit completely and welcome him in. Furthermore, he was one of the better tasting madmen in the facility, and Dracula did have intentions of relocating him to one of the cells in the basement eventually, for easier access.</p><p>That is, if he could assure himself that Jonathan would not kill him on sight.</p><p>His husband's hatred for the man was pure silliness, jealousy, pettiness, all the things that his previous brides had driven him up a wall with and a little more. He knew how to harness a certain amount of it and use it to his benefit. These outbursts, however, had to be purged out.</p><p>So, he became a fly on the wall of the office which he had just left, literally. Jonathan did not notice him in the slightest, to busy attempting to read. He shifted often, obviously uncomfortable, unsure of how to sit, or attempt to relax. This came to pass for a few minutes before Jonathan snapped. </p><p>"Damn it," he cried at last, throwing the book in his hands across the room. "This is ridiculous...To hell with it," he stood up and marched out, fisting his skirt to less interfere with his stomping.</p><p>Dracula followed behind silently, displeased by where this might be headed.</p><p>"I am a man, a respectable creature of the night, not some frilly brainless maiden! This is abominable!" He moved, then, transformed to mist and sunk down, under the floorboards, into his room. Dracula followed with apt speed. He was hidden still, but his nerves were strung, anger rising, little fly body tensing. The minute Jonathan touched any button or lace with the intention of discarding his orders Dracula would be there, ready to punish him as necessary.</p><p>His jackal stood before his full body mirror, hand raising to tear off the bodice of the dress. Yet he hesitated as his hand graced the cloth. He stared at himself in the mirror, mind whirling, clicking, a battle going on, pride raging against loyalty. After a tense eternity, his hand recoiled. The words which spilled quietly from him then very well saved his undead spine from dislocation.</p><p>"No...<em>No</em>...Master said I shall be free when he chooses. I shan't earn forgiveness like this...No...I'm mad, he is right, he is always right." his hand lowered from the low cut bodice before smoothing over his chest and stomach. Dracula's anger quelled, soothed by the look of repentance, real, raw repentance on his bride's face. "He is my master, this is my punishment, I shall take this humiliation with grace...and really..." he picked at the skirt, adjusting it before allowing his hand to fall on his hip, "this could have been worse..." He seemed to chew on that, expression darkening before he shook his head with a grimace, taking a few backward steps until he ran into his bed, falling onto it with another useless, loud, dramatic sigh. "I am a pitiful excuse of a servant..."</p><p>"That you are, Johnny," at the sudden appearance of his master at the foot of his bed, between his legs, Jonathan let out a scream befitting the garb he was wearing. "But you are not unteachable." </p><p>'M-master- you are back!" the delight and fear were contradictory to one another, yet they mixed with surprising ease in the younger vampires expression and tone. Dracula smiled, for the first time today, it was a true smile, stripped of all malice. Jonathan calmed slightly, lips twitching upwards in his own nervous smile. </p><p>"You say that as if I ever leave you." He began undoing his overcoat, throwing it aside as Jonathan flushed, still splayed out. Dracula did not miss the flash of guilt that briefly touched his pets mind, the 'What If' scenario that unfolded before him. It was blocked out as the count slid onto the bed, sliding Jonathan's skirt up to his hips and further cementing his place between the man's legs. This, both vampires decided, was a much better alternative to what <em>could have</em> happened, had Jonathan been stupid, had he not come to his senses on the precipice of insubordination.</p><p>The count's hand wandered casually down Jonathan's thigh, lower and lower until he was pulling down bloomers, throwing them behind him. Jonathan arched as his cold hand landed on the bare skin between thigh and groin, nails biting in as he leaned further over his slave, other hand pressing him further into the mattress. Jonathan looked at to him with wide, adoring blue eyes, spreading his legs wider, baring his neck with a soft expectant sound.</p><p>Oh, his work with Jonathan was not done, his fledgling still had lots to learn...but he knew a few things, certainly.</p>
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